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Showing posts from July, 2016

Nelson

Imagine President Mandela steps through  your grocery store.  He bends to speak  with the children like Jesus, h andles  the smooth curve of a single red apple. He remembers something he’d nearly  forgotten that he loved -             cone of honey colored sugarcane             pomegranate, tough and succulent. And he turns back into the fluorescent aisles, says             please, move on              up in front of me   nods at the cashier, t aking note of her name –              Audrey If Nelson Mandela shopped at your supermarket he would leave a handprint on the freezer doors, he would bend to speak to the children. Excerpted from  The Shape of Caught Water available from Red Mountain Press or directly from the author (505.670.4327) http://redmountainpress.us/

How Many Spoonsful

for Tracy The heritage of spoon life is selfless. Pinch of control. Drops of gratitude. Recipes lost, recreated. Sugar bowl broken. But hold the filigree between three fingers as witness to  the low places rubbed tenderly with repeated use. Middles revealing favorite  spoon. Not straw. Not knife. Not pencil. Hollow shaped to baby’s early palate. Cupped hand feeding heart and medicine. Nest. Morsels. Head on straight. Body tapering to obligation, to waist and silver flare of hand picked dress. Necklace fleur de lis and necessary scoop of chicken soup. Teaspoon of anxious soothed with thick, sticky honey. History of food fights settle in this slingshot. Instrument and measure, these utensils  we pull from the shadowy bottom drawer.  Patient is this tea bag rest  after hours upright working.  This spoon and all its forever conversation is yours now.  Spooning up a brand new decade.  Old things and shiny replacements. Song in spoon. Dance tune. Still life of plan